Elite in the Dark
by TheJauntyJabberwock
Summary: Manchester Black. Zatanna. Constantine. When the lives of children are on the line, they're on the case. They just don't know how far down the rabbit hole this goes. ((Rated to be on the safe side for violence and mature themes. Short chapters, pre-formation of the Elite timeline.))
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Rated Mature because it's Black, and later another. Trigger warning: human trafficking, child abuse.

As usual I won't really bother too much with typing out accents less it suits me or I'm in a mood where it comes naturally.

Edited 07/25/2018

* * *

The cry rang out, unheard by the rest of the populous in the bar, but piercing through Manchester's mind sharp enough to make the pool-stick eat the table. He glanced around, but the rest of the bar inhabitants paid no mind. None but the guy he was currently beating in this game, who raised a brow at the response. Black put on a smirk.

"Headache, mate." he got a nod and lined up the shot, before another cry rang out in his mind. No, a sob. From a child. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, the weight of that agony already pressing against his back. Time to wrap this up. He set the stick into that white ball, and used a touch of his telekinesis to make the little things go exactly where he wanted them to, knocking the rest of his balls into the holes before a neat wrap of the eight ball dropping in. Of course the guy was pissed. Of course he didn't believe it. But Manchester didn't care. He just swiped up the cash earnings all the same.

"Pleasure playing with you."

"You cheat! You-" before the man could take a swing Manchester just waggled a finger with a tsk. The guy froze in place, a look of sudden realization and horror striking his face.

"Now lets not go doin' anything stupid. Why don't you have another drink?" he waved the finger in a circle and the guy spun on a heel to go do just that. Wonderful. Now, onto business.

He stepped out into the chill air, instantly lighting up a cigarette and bringing it to his lips.

"Alright, where are you?" dark eyes scanned the alleyway, ignoring the usual stench of stale rubbish and piss that greeted nostrils from the city streets. Not that he could smell much past the steady and constant flow of cigarette smoke. Or taste much. No big deal. He dared to reach outwards with his telepathy, and felt it hit him in an instant. Wind knocked from his lungs, doubled over and heart rattlin against its cage. Pure panic, agony, helplessness...replaced quickly by boiling rage. His fists closed as he stood himself tall, moving towards the cause, narrowing in and following to the source, only to slow down when he got closer. Big scary tattooed man, probably not the best thing for a clearly terrified child to see right off. Ease up, Black. He flicked his cancer stick away, kneeling down to rest elbows on his knees so not to be so big, and reached out with his mind more gently.

 _"I know you're scared. I know you're hurt. I heard your psychic shout. It's going to be okay, Manchester Black is here to punish the bad men."_ there was definite intention behind that last part. Punishing bad men was what Black did. It's what he lived for. Who ever was responsible for the emotion he'd encountered was going to pay. In tears and blood and broken bones. But, Jesus, he still wasn't prepared for what crawled out from behind the rubbish bin. She couldn't have been more than eleven, black messy locks of hair framing gaunt face. Eyes sunken in and raccooned, the rest of her looking just as malnourished with just an over-sized t-shirt hanging off bruised skin. Manchester was no stranger to suffering. He was no stranger to poverty and a childhood no on should have to struggle through, but even so the sight of her made bile find the back of his throat. He reached out a hand, but let her be the one to take it. He spoke out loud this time,

"You have a name?" She managed to return thoughts to him with an ease that let him think maybe she had some psychic ability of her own, a tiny hand placed into his own with a shaking hesitance.

 _"We have to help the others."_ it was as desperate as the first cry, consumed by a need to hurry, but her legs couldn't even hold herself up. She collapsed, one hand finding the pavement as he scooped her into his arm, no thought necessary.

"We will, Luv, we'll get everyone out. Lets get you looked at-"

"N-no! Hospital..." the terror translated without the expression, wincing with the effort of speaking out loud.

"Okay, okay, no hospital. But I've got a friend, she'll look after you. I'll just take a peak around, and see where you came from, yeah? Get everyone help before you wake up. Just leave everything to me." she was already fading, too exhausted to stay awake.

Manchester frowned down at the child passed out in his arm, lifted her up off the ground, cradling the fragile thing as if she could shatter at any moment. He knew better. He didn't know the full extent of what she'd been through so far, but he had some ideas. She'd survived this long. Not without damage, he was sure of that, trauma. But she'd survived. She would be tough. Tougher than most would even be able to realize. But for now, he needed to find out where she had been. And where those others were she spoke of.

In he dove, carefully, trying not to damage anything that wasn't already broken. Next thing he knew he was floating in a inky black, glancing around.

"Alright, Luv, let's see where-" screams cried out around him, dozens at once, shattering the silence and piercing into him. Or was it hundreds? He couldn't tell. He could see, nothing. He could only feel the vague sensation of cold stone and hear the cries surrounding him, boring into him, bringing him to his knees. And then silence fell. He glanced up to notice a pair of eyes in the dark. A set of six, moving in tandem, sharing whatever face was unseen in the dark. They reflected light the way a Raccoon reflected the flash of car lights at night. The same sheen. The same primal, beast-like intelligence. Watching him. He barely had time to part his lips, before it was rushing towards him. He braced himself, before the shock of cold moved through him, imparted to him a numbing sensation of emptiness. Manchester had never felt numb. He felt angry. He felt justified in revenge, and in justice, in all that he had done to date. They deserved it. But this? Made him feel empty. There was no spark of rage. There was no hunger for revenge or for justice. No hurt left over beneath it all for the injustices of the world. There was simply...nothing. Manchester Black stood there in the darkness, and he felt...nothing. He was...nothing.

And then he opened his eyes in the real world as he was jolted back into his own head, gasping for breath as the wave of emotions returned to him.

"What...What the hell was that?" he took another look at the tiny thing curled in his arms, her brow furrowed and breath quick, no peace even in sleep. He didn't get shaken up easy, about to reach out and try again, and yet...didn't. Something instinctive, something primal at his very core, warned him against it. Well fuck that, he's Manchester Bloody Black! As if he could be frightened away by...by what? Some pair of eyes in the dark?

 _Why had her mind been blank_? It shouldn't have been. It should have been easy for him to pull up memories, scenery, _something_. He hesitated at the corner of reaching out again. And instead, decided he'd better get her seen to first. His friend Missy had girls of her own about this age. Missy'd know what to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** For those sticking around or giving this a shot, welcome to the second chapter. I know Manchester Black isn't the most popular or well known so I don't expect this to be well read but oh well writing it anyhow. :P Keeping chapters fairly short and pumped out quickish because I'm pretty much typing stuff up between tasks. XD

* * *

"What the hell?" Missy's outrage was apparent before Black even made it in the door, one baby on her hip and two more children running through the house behind her. Missy was the ideal of matronly, all soft curves and a glare that could set a grown man straight from across the room. What she said, went, but you always knew it came from a place of love. Her long brown hair was tied back in a messy bun, and she never bothered with makeup after kid number two. Her time was better spent on other things.

"Marcos, come take your baby sister!" the oldest boy came when called, and did as he was told, smiling up at Manchester and eyeing the girl in his arms curiously.

"Sorry, wasn't sure where-" She cut him off quick, motioning him inside.

"Don't just stand there letting the warm air out, get in here. Lita? Get one of the blankets from the closet and lay it out on the couch. There's a good girl."

"Is she okay?" Marcos hung around as best he could before another command from his mother sent him reluctantly away to his room, taking his other little sisters with him.

"Put her in her crib and bring some extra clothes, okay Marcos?" He gave an obedient nod and Missy wasted no time taking the bundle of injured child from Manchester's arms.

"Jesus, I know you bring me the occasional stray, but what the hell is this?" The kids he brought her on occasion, those who didn't actually want to stay on the streets, he wasn't sure how she managed it but Missy always found them a place. Her own home had been a safe haven for the occasional wayward youth on more occasions than he could count. But then the kids he brought over were usually conscious. A bit worse for the ware, sure, but never this bad off. She set the girl down (he still didn't have a name for her) and hissed when she moved the t-shirt aside.

"Mostly clean at least, minus the bare feet." Marcos brought over some of the extra clothes and scuttled away at his mother's nod.

"I suspect trafficking. She's escaped, somehow. Mentioned more before she konked out." Missy paused, the gravity of the situation intense in her gaze upon him and voice turning to a hushed whisper.

"Trafficking? Chess, are you going into this alone?" he managed a laugh in the face of her concern,

"It's me, Luv, we both know what I can do."

"How do we know they won't have some kind of defenses against..."

"Against what? Something like me? There are no defenses against me." he was as brash and confident as ever, almost lighting up another cigarette before a single look from Missy reminded him not indoors. So instead it just sat between his lips. Missy set to work on getting their "guest" into fresh clothes and issued another command, general commander of the home.

"Go to the kitchen and fetch some water and something for her to eat. Better put on some porridge, might be all she can stomach." Like her children, Manchester knew better than to argue with Missy, but was yanked back with a, "Wait." the voice reflected the thought, confusion. Disbelief, perhaps. The over-sized t-shirt fell away from the girl's shoulder and back at a neck hole that was too large. Lines and lattice work of scars beneath it. It looked like...lash marks? No...she traced fingers over a more distinct set of three. Claw marks.

"Chess...how could anyone do this to a-" a sharp intake of breath, said child sprung back to life and clutched at the wrist connected to the hand that had been at her back. Panic, initially.

"Calm, calm down. It's okay. Yer safe." Manchester spoke up, hoping she'd remember his voice, as her dark eyes (no, darker than his, practically black), scanned the room and them. After a moment she let the grip on Missy's wrist go.

"I'm Missy," soothing maternal tones in an instant, "Do you have a name?" the child took several seconds, trying to figure out where she was.

"Adella. We have to help the others..." still to the point, and Manchester couldn't say he blamed her, if they were in as bad a way. She managed to get out, but she wasn't just going to run away or take care of herself. She had to get help and get back. She couldn't just leave them behind. Even after all they could only guess she had been through, she was more than willing to risk it if it could get the others out. She wasn't afraid. She was burning up with sheer will power.

"Alright Luv, we're going to do just that. And we're going to make the bad men who did this to you, and the others, pay for what they've done. I promise you. How's that sound?" Adella didn't smile. She said no thank you. She gave a stern nod that didn't belong on a face that young.

He remembered Vera, his baby sister. He remembered how she came along with him to the factory. She was still filled with enough innocence, a vacant smile on her face as he set to work. He started five minutes before they even went in, getting revenge on the people of the factory. The ones who had cost his sister her arms. She'd hesitated, still just pure enough to think that maybe they shouldn't do it. Here, in Adella, there was no hesitance. Only steely resolve.

"Honey, you need to hydrate and get some food in you. I have some extra clothes here-"

"We need to get the others." Missy buckled down,

"You're not going anywhere until you drink some water and put some food in your belly." Adella shrank back, and after a moment and a stomach rumbling, she gave a nod to agree. Missy rose to go to the kitchen, giving a sharp snap to Marcos as she went to get him to go back to looking after his sisters in their room. Manchester spoke telepathically, mostly so Missy couldn't overhear and object to anything.

 _"I tried finding the place you were kept in your memories. No Luck. Did you block it out? Do you know where we need to go?"_ she was silent and withdrawn for a long while, then slowly the words began to come to him. Small and timid even in thought.

 _"I got away. But I could re-trace my steps...I think..."_

 _"If you can think those steps towards me-"_

 _"I'm coming with."_

 _"...you don't have to-"_

 _"I'm coming with. I do have to."_

 _"There's going to be a lot of blood. A lot of-"_

 _"Good."_ they deserve it. She didn't have to think the words at him to know them. And he couldn't agree more.

 _"Alright. You come with."_ That seemed to satisfy her, as Missy returned with a glass of water and a sandwich, saying something about she could make porridge if that was easier. But Adella ate and drank quickly, almost choking once but correcting it herself, and the moment the plate was finished looked to Manchester.

"Can we go now?" Missy gave him a glare, but he held his hands up in mock unarmed surrender.

"I'm going." it held the same conviction, and even Missy just gave a sigh.

"Then at least change into some proper clothes, okay?" she handed Adella the dress, and with a nod she went to change in the bathroom.

"Chess, if anything else happens to that girl I'm holding you personally responsible." Missy was all glares, never one to be afraid of Manchester even after seeing what he was capable of. They were on the same side. She had her kids to look after. Neither of them wanted to see more children suffering who didn't have to. Even despite her glare the weary sentiment echoed across her words,

"Go get 'em. And put the bad guys in the ground where they belong."

"That's the plan, Luv."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Another super short chapter woops. Chugging along to get the basic outline done done done. Zatanna will appear next chapter. Mood music if you want it: Opeth's Demon of the Fall

* * *

They were there. It was a good thing she had led the way back, through the winding streets and here to this location. He ought to be able to hear them. He should have been able to detect their pain, the cries for help, anytime he passed by. So why didn't he? Why was it silent inside the building, his mind only touching on the few adult individuals within? As if she was the mind reader (was she one?) she answered,

"They keep us tired." one hand was rubbing at the inside of her arm, numerous needle marks lining up and down the skin. Drugs. They keep them drugged. With Vera, he had started before they even entered. Worked to convince her this was right. This time, he waited, for the girl with messy black curls and a sickly pale body wracked with injuries to walk first towards the doors. Bruises along legs and arms. Needle marks. Bags under eyes. Strange scars covering her back. The petite frame moved toward the doors of the warehouse, and Manchester Black followed. Undid the locks that were on the insides, and parted the doors with his mind. They stepped into the dimly lit building, barely any trace of street lamps able to filter down from the windows high above. Dark. In the darkness, there were shipping containers. In the darkness, there were monsters, wrapped in the flesh of men. And a more powerful beast ready to rip into the first miserable sod who he saw. There he was, the first volunteer. Dressed like an average security guard, not incredibly fit but he must have had his license. Or maybe just the uniform. Didn't matter, he wasn't prepared for what was coming next.

"You! How'd you get in here? Wait...How did _you_ get out?" the guard drew his weapon, instinct, a trace of fear somewhere in the back of his head. But he wasn't afraid enough. Not yet. Not as scared as he should be. Black heard her voice, barely a whisper in the dark, distressed at last.

"I think I'm going to be sick..."

"I know, Luv, but don't you worry." a raise of his hand and the monster in front of them dropped his weapon. Stiff, pulled into the air, and finally terrified.

"What are you, wait-" the not-quite-man questioned of the intruders.

"But as I said, the bad man are all gonna to be punished." A twist of the man's limbs, three, four, five times in a complete circle with crunching bones and a shrill scream. It would alert the others. Good. Let them come. Manchester Black was here to-

"You don't understand. I think I'm going to be sick..." it was more desperate now. No, terrified. He barely had time to glance sideways before Adella was doubled over, hands on the floor in front of her and vomiting. No. That's not the right word for it at all.

What poured out of that little girl wasn't the meal she'd managed. It was something else entirely. Black. Thick. Visceral. A sludge that sloshed onto the ground and promptly began to _spread_. It formed a perfect circle around her on the floor, rose from the ground in disconnected pieces, hovered in the air around her, until it could thicken into tendrils. Still the sludge poured from her mouth, more than should be capable of coming from such a tiny frame, but still it came. It came, until the shaking sputters had no more left. She wiped her lips with the back of her arm. Then she stood, body loose and weak, limbs heavy. She opened her eyes, pure black, and turned to look at him. Smiled, rows of sharp teeth. And he knew that look. No, he knew this feeling. This sinking cold fighting to take root. The flash of reflective eyes. When she spoke, the words that bubbled forth were the sound of several voices at once. And only half sounded even remotely human.

"Thank you. For bringing us back here. We needed those sedatives out of her system." the creature in her flesh twitched, "You would have made an excellent host. But you are too old now." Manchester dropped the meat-suit he currently had in the air, let it hit the floor in a wet thud, and turned his full attention to this thing. That explains it. The darkness in her head, the inability to see her memories. Whatever this was had kept him out.

"Who-No, what are you. What have you done with Adella?" you're damn right he sounded angry, just what did this thing think it was doing? It smiled, far too confident for his liking. He could rip it to shreds just for that, but not without hurting the girl in the process. She didn't deserve that.

"We are her savior. We appeared in the dark, and she let us inside. To let her _outside_."

"Okay, then I'd say your deal is done. So why don't you just go back to where you came from, yeah? Thanks for the help and all that." The creature's focus shifted to the rest of the crates.

"Because. We came for them. You may have the adults responsible." Realization dawned.

"You-You're using me!" he reached out with his power, he wasn't sure what he was doing, just that he had to do something. He reached out, with mind and telekinesis both, intending to maybe rip that black junk from her person by force if he had to, but the thing spread outwards faster.

His world went to nothing. He couldn't see his hand in front of his own face. He heard the doors of the storage units open. He heard what must have been a hundred children screaming. And then, nothing.

* * *

Manchester Black woke up on his back to the sound of guns cocking.

"Who the fuck are you? And what did you do with our kids?" no one was firing yet. It would be the last mistake they made. He scanned their minds. The darkness had blotted out their worlds too. Each had woken up, same as him, on the floor with the light of a rising sun just beginning to peak through the windows above.

"I said, what did you do, with our kids? Do you have any idea what they're worth-" they were choking, every body rigid as Manchester sat up. Fear saturated the air again. The righteous fear of evil men. A few wet themselves. Good. All knew what was about to happen.

"Now we all know you're going to die. Question is, do you die slow? Or fast?" his turn to be confident. To rise from the ground and watch these wastes of flesh tremble.

"I don't need to read your minds to know what you've been doing." he couldn't help but catch glimpses all the same, flashes making his stomach do flips and tie knots.

"You kept children as pets. Sold them for profit. Kept them barely alive. Children. And now, you don't know where they've got off to. Don't worry." He snapped his fingers, and all but the ring leader put the barrels of their guns into their mouths. They were crying. He let them stand like that for a good five minutes. Will he make them do it? Won't he? Will he? Won't he? And then at seeming random they began to pull the triggers, until only the frozen ring leader remained.

"Too good a death, you ask me. But Like I was saying. I'm going to find those kids. You got files on them or something, yeah? Pics that let you sell them off to whatever sicko wants to take part? I bet you have a client list too, somewhere, don't you? Oh? Not all of them...but some. Bring them to me. Chop chop." He lit up a cigarette while the, he can't call that thing human, fetched what was requested.

"There's a good lad. Now then. Jam your thumbs into your eye sockets. Until you can feel the back of your skull." he was already flipping through the pages of photos, demographics on each kid, walking away and oblivious to the screams behind him. He thought he heard hundreds of children screaming. But they only had thirty in this file. Still, that's thirty abused and traumatized kids out there somewhere, with some creature pulling the strings. Some...he doesn't even know what it was. Just that it felt old. Primal. Cold. It wasn't a psychic something. Nothing to do with metas that was for sure. No, something about that thing? He couldn't put his hand on it. It must have been...

It dawned on him. Was magic real? Yeah, of course it was. He'd encountered the real deal once before. And he knew just who to track down now. After, of course, he found all of the clients from this ring who were nearby. And gave them their just desserts as well...


	4. Chapter 4

" _Pretty nice show back there. Specially that bit of actual hocus pocus at the end._ " Zatanna twirled about, not finding the source and guard instantly up. If she didn't know any better she'd say she heard that voice in her head?

" _Right you are, luv. But don't you fret none I'm not here to cause trouble. In fact,_ " Manchester drifted down from the roof above, a good distance away and arms up to show unarmed and spoke out loud, "I need your help." Her dark eyes swept over the broad tattooed chest of the man before her, Union Jack colors and bright purple hair above. Long black coat and tall black boots. Regular English punk, he already reminded her a bit of another Brit she knew, similar accents, though John's attire was considerably more conservative.

"You need my help with what?" she didn't drop her defenses, nor did she approach him. On the contrary, the crossed arms and scowl spoke loudly of what she thought of his intrusion into her mind. Even if just to talk.

"Showin's fast'n tellin. That is, if you'll allow. Sorry bout bargin' in, force a habit. Promise this is low level stuff, just like telli but in three-dimension. Trust me, if this was easy to explain I wouldn't be here." she raised a brow at his words, but got the impression if this guy wanted to start trouble he would have. Something told her he was packing a lot more of a punch than he was showing, even if it lacked any distinct tingle of magic. Must be psychic. After a moment she sighed and gave nod.

"Any funny business, and you'll be spending the next three hours as a rabbit." she warned, and got a nod. In came the flood of images and sensations, flashes as quick to pass as they were to appear, giving her a basic run down. A child, emaciated and clearly abused, skin riddled with the marks of it. More children. Trafficking. A drive to punish those responsible, only to find another player on the field. Something rippling cold emptiness, something formed of inky blackness, something dark, expanding out to claim the children. It looked at her, no she had to remind herself this was his memories. Because for a split second she could swear the thing in his memories was noticing _her_. Looking at and observing _her_. Daring her to chase it. And then the visions came to a close.

"I don't know what that thing was, but it felt like magic. And it's got thirty kids in its grasp. I don't know for what." he wrapped up the tale, and it took her a moment to catch her breath and wrap her head around it.

"Jesus." thirty kids. And she saw what the first one looked like, could feel the lack of weight in her, no his, arms. If she were being honest, she didn't know what that thing was either. She didn't know how powerful it was, or what magical way could stop it, or what might happen if they forced it from what was very clearly its host. This was dangerous area they were treading, even for her.

"Do you still have anything that belonged to her? We might need that for a locator spell." Black thought about that, having figured the do-gooder would want to help in a situation like this.

"I can call Missy, see if she still has Adela's t-shirt." maybe attaching a name to the possessed child wasn't the best idea. Had that even been the girl's real name? He didn't know how bad this would go, but if push came to shove the lives of the other children would outweigh the life of one. It wasn't a choice he hoped he had to make, but he knew he wasn't the kind to shy away from the hard choices either.

"We can't go running into something like this blind. It looked like some kind of demonic possession, and I don't have a lot of experience with that kind of stuff. My magic's a bit...different. But I know someone who can help us." Not that she was incredibly fond of getting back in touch with her ex, but she didn't want to mess this up either. Besides, maybe this would be just the kind of thing to help ease his spirits after Newcastle. Where he had failed there, now he had a chance to save more than one little girl. A good deal many more.

"The more the merrier, luv, just don't go bringin' in unnecessary drama." for her glare in answer Manchester just smirked, "Don't have to read your mind to know that emotion." fair enough.

"Give me an address, I'll get us there, then we can go collect John."

* * *

Manchester had to admit he was slightly impressed with Zatanna's ability to teleport them where they needed to go. Nifty spell, that. He could certainly use something akin to it more often. Make his jobs all a hell of a lot easier. But those were thoughts for another time. For now they had Adella's old shirt and she was knocking on the door to find a disheveled blond bloke answering with half lidded eyes.

"Zee?" the surprise had him awake in no time, blue eyes flicking over Manchester and slitting over a frown, "Don't think we've met."

"No, call me Chess. Less of a mouthful."

"A local?"

"Something like that." Zatanna was the one to pull the focus back,

"We need you help, John." it took him another moment to register, and John Constantine's attitude certainly didn't improve.

"Of course you do. All this way, all this time, and it's cause you need somethin." Zatanna just rolled her eyes,

"Like you do anything if there's not something in it for you?" the heat in those words had Black taking a slight step back, wondering how bad a lovers spat can be between two magicals.

"Well here's something in it for you: it looked demonic. And it's hunting children. It's got thirty of them trapped somewhere, and one of them possessed. We don't know for what, we just know not to go in blind and you're the best we've got for handling this kind of shit. Lets just say I didn't want to make the same mistake you told me about in Newcastle, and I figured you might want a shot at balancing the scales after that." she wasn't pulling punches, Constantine having no sassy quip to return. She knew just what pressure points to hit, so he opened the door and let them wonder in.

"What do you know so far?" John had a cigarette lit up first and foremost while he shuffled into some pants beneath the half open robe and otherwise made himself more presentable for public. He didn't seem to mind either of their opinions on him changing then and there.

"Not much I know of, you wanna cover this?" Chess handed it over to Zatanna, who honestly was probably the most stable and level headed one in the room all around.

"It looked like something demonic. Thick black ooze out of a child's body. Black eyes, sharp teeth, different voice when she spoke. It spread out and knocked all the adults out, and grabbed the kids. When Chess woke up they were gone. We've got a way to find the host, but don't want to go in blind." The trademark trench found his shoulders, and Zatanna noted silently that both men preferred their long coats, though Constantine's was filled with more tricks. He was already plucking things up from around the room, digging through a chest and snatching up odds and ends. Chess didn't ask, over his head all this magic mumbo jumbo. Only thing he cared about is it working.

"I've come a long way since Newcastle," the word still had a bite of bitterness on his tongue, "if we're looking at an exorcism I'll be able to pull it off easy. While you lot get the kids out." he finally paused on the other man in the room, "What do you practice, mate?"

" _I don't._ " it was spoken in his mind with a smirk, making John nearly jump out of his skin and Chess have to hold back a laugh.

"Bloody psychic! Oy! Stay outta my head!"

"Not-" before Chess could finish saying "thing to see", Zatanna claimed their attention again.

"Are you ready?" John gave a nod, Chess fell into place likewise grabbing a smoke since their host had, and Zatanna held the shirt between both hands. Flanked by two smoking Brits in long coats, she spoke the words.

"ekat su ot alleda." the magic rushed forward, swirled in the air around them, and before any of them could respond or reacts, an inky black smoke poured out of a hole ripped above them, and doused them in darkness.

* * *

 **AN:** originally I was just going to have Zatanna, but I thought it would be too fun not to have Chess and John working together on something. XD


	5. Chapter 5

They woke up with the feel of plush carpet under their fingers, pressed against their backs. As their eyes adjusted to the dim lamplight of the room, varying shades of grays comprising the furniture and walls. Each began to sit up and take noticed of the new environment. It looked not unlike an old Victorian sitting room, illuminated by an old gas lamp on the table nearest them, and the flickering flames within the fireplace. There was a large armchair, a fainting couch, and fleur de lis printed wall paper, the only color other than the flames the dark green carpet beneath them. The white curtains against the window had a sheer gray lace overlay.

"Well aint this quaint?" Chess sat up, instantly reaching outwards to see if he couldn't reach another mind. But it was as it had been before. Silent.

"I'm not getting any reads here. Something must be blocking me out."

"Pity, the great psychic's having some performance troubles?" John smirked as he moved to the window, Zatanna moving to the fireplace and wondering if bringing both of them was the best idea.

"I can make you eat those words, if-" Chess didn't get much out.

"What the hell?" John pulled back the curtains, to show a window with only black behind it. Had it been painted over? He touched fingertips to it and felt the cold pressing in from the other side. Somewhere out there, he could swear he saw something move, but it was hard to tell. Either way the weight and possible severity translated to the rest of the room.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." John muttered, closing the blinds again.

"Where the hell did you bring us-" but Zatanna's eyes were just past where John stood, wide with obvious fear. The instinctive kind that didn't need to make sense, a simple case of supernatural dread that quickly began to spread to the other two.

"That wasn't there when we got here." she pointed, their gaze followed, and both men jumped up and back, John instinctively extending a hand as if to block her from what they noticed.

It looked like a statue, with a white sheet tossed over it. If the room had all the furniture covered, they might not have noticed it. But in one open, warmed by a fire, and with so little furniture, they would have noticed. Each stared at it, unwilling to so much as blink, wondering what would happen. Because something, surely, was going to happen. Wasn't it? John was the first to regain his resolve, smiling and posture relaxing.

"Lookit us. Jumping around like a bunch of-" before he could finish the sentence the covered "statue" moved. No, twitched. Sighed? Either way he was stepping back. One pair of tiny hands slipped out from under the sheet, gripping it tightly. Then a second pair slid out beneath the first, and gray arms extended, reaching for them slowly. It wasn't stone, but cracked and dry gray flesh beneath the fabric. If having four sets of arms didn't give away that what ever was under that wasn't human, the movement certainly would. While standing still it passed for a human statue, but when it moved, the _way_ it moved, what ever was under the sheet had joints and junctures in all the wrong places.

"Don't let it touch you." Zatanna breathed the words, still not blinking, getting a questionable look from Chess.

"A feeling I get. Don't let it touch you."

"Yeah. Easy." he might not be able to hear anything out in this place, but Chess still had his telekinesis. With a wave the mysterious being was lifted into the air, and tossed backwards, crumbling against the far wall.

"There. Easy." Chess lit up a cigarette while John finally realized maybe this guy would have his uses after all, but before either could get far six more of the first creature slid out of the wallpaper. The wall paper stretched and formed and the first picked itself up. Chess gave another wave of his hand. Nothing happened. A second wave. Nothing.

"Now's really not the time for performance anxiety." John managed the quip this time, a frowning Chess not laughing.

"It's not working."

"Yeah, obvious." Zatanna tugged both by the sleeves, heading for the door. The creatures weren't following them yet, just watched them go. Once they made it to the hallway (yet again lit by a chain of gas lights above), Zatanna kept her hands pressed to the door closed behind them. "peek sgniht ni." she muttered, and a blue glow extended across the door.

"That should hold them, at least for a little while." They glanced down the hall, more carpet but this one was brown. Different wallpaper. The hallways went down a long ways, lined with doors of varying sizes, colors, and designs. Near them was a dead end with another window. John moved to check it, same as the first, nothing but black beyond.

"Look." Zatanna pointed out the grandfather clock standing next to John, the hands stopped and numbers reaching thirteen. A fluke? Or were they all like that? Chess spoke up first.

"Okay, as fun as topsy-turvey haunted house land is, we've got a mission here people. Zatanna, your spell was supposed to bring us to Adella."

"Who elected you leader?" John made the question idle but Chess snipped back quick enough, "I'm the one who found this case. I'm the one who found that little girl. So you're damn right I'm leading here, even if magic is more your ballpark. You got a problem with that?"

"No, mate, not much for leading myself." Not what Chess expected for a response. Took the wind out of his sales a bit. Not important.

"I'm reaching out, I can't hear or find no one in this place. Not to doubt your magic here, but are you sure-" as if on cue their attention got snatched away by a child's giggle behind them.

"And the horror movie theme continues." Chess sighed, all of them twirling to see the child dressed in purple smiling at them. Given what they had seen so far, none were too quick to assume the child ordinary. Her dress matched the Victorian feel of the prior room, raising the question of if some kind of time travel or time lock might be involved.

"What are you? Some kind of ghost child? Yer a bit young to be dying your hair." True enough her locks matched the dark purple of the dress, but she only smiled when told these things.

"The silent treatment, great." For all his quips the irritable mood was obvious.

"Spirits are good at that, let me have a go," John stepped up and forward.

"We're lookin' for a bunch of other kids. Round your age, I'm guessing. Have you seen any like that around here?" didn't seem too hard to Chess, John just spoke to the girl like she was any kid they'd walked across. She regarded them, eyes darting over each form, pausing on Zatanna, the smile growing more...warm? Perhaps? Yet it sent a shiver down her spine.

"I don't think-" Before Zatanna could continue a piercing pain found her temple, drawing her hands to it and doubling her over. It may as well have been a literal jab into her skull, both men's attention drawn to her. She could see something. But what? She was a child again herself for that moment, listening at her bedroom door to whispers of voices from beneath the crack, but she couldn't make out the words. When the sharp pain ended, and she regained her ability to stand on her own, the girl was gone.

"You alright, luv?" both boys spoke at once, sparing a side glance as she nodded and shooed them aside.

"I think..." she was recalling it now, the shape of the door in the vision she'd been given. And yet, the memory (was it even her memory?) of being frightened at the doorway persisted. What were they talking about beneath the crack? Why did it make her worry so? For once the boys were silent as her brow furrowed in irritation of a very different flavor from their attempts to joke in order to ease general nerves.

"I know where to go." she strode forward with all the confidence both her powers, and her womanhood granted. No longer was she a child, she would not huddle in fear in the dark. She moved forward through the hallway of doors, turned a corner to find another hall like the first, scanned the doors they passed. There it was. The door she remembered in the vision. Worn wood with an all too ornate handle that didn't suit the termite riddled texture. Zatanna stood tall. She extended a hand for the door, getting a quick,

"Wait, what if it's a trap of some kind?" from John. Which earned a glare, "I'm just saying." Zatanna turned the handle on the door and pushed it open wide. Behind the light of the room, three female voices chimed.

"We weren't expecting company. Do come in."


	6. Chapter 6

"Come in, come in." For a split second John Constantine thought perhaps they had stumbled into the current residence of the Fates. Three female voices inviting them in? It was the first thought that came to his mind. And yet, when they stepped inside, the three girls he saw didn't quite fit the description correctly. There was the girl in purple, sitting at the head of a long table laid out with a feast fit for royalty. To her left sat a young teenage girl in pink and white attire fit for a work out, bubblegum hair pulled up into a ponytail. To her right sat a woman in a flowing blue dress and hair to match it, dark lips and eye shadow accenting her sullen face. Not what John was anticipating. But then supernatural beings, he supposed, could take any number of forms-

"We are not the Fates." The woman in blue spoke up clearly, displeased in every cadence, "We are the triad."

"What like father, spirit, holy ghost? Sorry, mother I guess." Chess wasn't too concerned, wondering in with all the attitude and swagger he ventured life with, eyeing the table and plopping down in a chair with ease. The purple one smiled as he reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"I wouldn't do that Mate." John interrupted, but played ball enough to grab a chair himself. Zatanna moved last, tempted to stand. Pinky spoke up next, as bubbly and energetic as her attire suggested she might be.

"I'm Star, these are my sisters Webb and Wizz. I see there are three of us and three of you. How delightful!" Wizz was the blue, Webb the purple, who had yet to actually speak out loud.

"Right, introductions. I'm John, this bloke's Chess, that's Zatanna. Humbled to make your acquaintances." John had enough sense to be polite, though there was nothing sincere in his words. Zatanna spoke next,

"We didn't mean to drop by unannounced. We're looking for some children who have been taken. Would you enlighten us on where we are?"

Chess was enough out of his element to, for once, think it might be best to keep his mouth shut. If he couldn't eat what was on the table, he'd have another smoke. All three heads turned to him the moment he lit up. Bad move? Hard to tell when that purple brat wouldn't stop smiling. She rose from her chair. Silence fell. No one sure what would happen next. She moved towards Manchester, with each step shifting and growing, until by the time she reached him she was no longer in the form of a child dressed in Victorian dress. Now she was a seven foot tall woman, purple gown hanging off one shoulder and down to the floor. She leaned in, and plucked the cigarette from his lips, putting it to her own instead and standing tall once more.

"I have selected my champion." The low voice rippled across the room with an unspoken power.

"I chose Zatanna." Wizz sounded as if she had made up her mind the moment the three had appeared.

"I guess that makes you mine. Good! You're pretty cute!" Starr winked to John, which would have been a lot more acceptable if she wasn't in the form a barely teen girl.

The three "guests" turned to each other in confusion.

"Champions? No, we're looking for a bunch of kids and a girl named Adella." Chess wasn't having it. The three hosts grew silent and their faces lacked emotion.

"Now, lets not be too hasty, we don't know what we're dealing with-" When Zatanna tried to reach a reasoning hand for Chess, the man only slammed a fist down on the table to rose to his feet with a shout.

"No! Listen, I don't care who or what you are, we don't have time for games! There's thirty children who have been hurt, and used, and have been suffering. Now they're no doubt scared and confused and we've come to take them back and see they're taken care of. Do you get that? Do you understand that in what ever twisted place this is, what ever twisted things you are?!" John was already reaching into his jacket pockets as Chess ranted. Not the best step, he often found, insulting the supernatural beings you haven't identified yet.

Webb was by her sister's sides again, back at the head of the table with Chess's cigarette between her lips. The smoke rose off of it in drifting weaving waves.

"The champions have been selected. The con artist, the natural, and the brazen psychic. You have your goals. Now we see who shall be victorious." before any could ask what they meant by goals plural, or protest, the floor opened up beneath each and they found themselves travelling down a metal shoot, nothing to grip and no way to stop themselves from being separated. No way to prevent each winding up in a different room, of a building they did not understand, with no true answers to where this was or what was going on, or where the children they had come for were hiding. Or even if the children were here at all.

Zatanna. The Natural. Burning to find those children she had set out to save.

Manchester. The brazen Psychic. Seeking the child he had first found, the girl who had pulled all of them into this madness. Adella.

John. The con artist. Wondering where the hell this was, what the hell this was, and how he was going to get home again.

* * *

 **AN:** Super short, I know. I'll probably have the longest chapter yet next.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Casual note that this place they have wound up and all creatures within is a place of my own creation. And I already have one story taking place there published in a youth short stories book way back in the day. Figured I'd have some fun and re-visit it.

* * *

The momentum of the slide kept Constantine from being able to stop himself on the smooth metallic surface surrounding him, or catch himself when a trap door opened to jut him out skidding across tile floor.

"Well that was rather rude." he grumbled to himself, wasting no time brushing himself off and picking himself up. There was no telling where he'd been dropped off, or what else was waiting for him. He still didn't even know where or what this place was. Not the House of Mystery, that much was certain. Wait. No. This was too easy. He was wondering where he was and what was going on, and the trap door beneath his feet had brought him to a library. A massive one, by the looks of it. He'd make a quip about his luck finally turning around, but knew better than that. There was no possible way it was this easy. He had to be missing something. His muscles remained tensed for a moment, primed and ready to spring into action, only to remain surrounded by silence. Fuck it. His posture relaxed and he moved to the closest shelf, plucking the first book off of it and opening the spine. Blank. He frowned at the thing, closed it, checked the cover and spine. Blank. He glanced at the rest. Also blank.

"Of course. Why make it easy for old John?" he shook his head and put the book back. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. Hands found his pockets as he began to browse, scan the shelves that towered high above him to form some kind of maze with the occasional ladder. Not quite to the ceiling, but certainly too tall for him to pop over with any ease. He didn't like the design of that, not one bit. It was a recipe for trouble. He turned the first corner and froze. Something was ahead of him. Black robes over hunched back, the cloth looking to transform into liquid at the bottom, thick and dark in a pool around the creature. It seemed to be rearranging the texts, a cart full of others by its side. Well, why not? Not like this was John's first time in an otherwordly place filled with supernatural creatures.

"Excuse me," he threw on a charming smile, noting the creature paused and turned to him. the face beneath the black was a round disk with large holes where eyes ought to be. Like a carved disk. The pair of over-sized hands were also gray, reminding him slightly of the creatures with the white sheets earlier. But this one emitted no dread. Which gave him the confidence to move forward.

"Don't suppose you know what a guy's got to do around here to read these things? Or are they supposed to be blank?" he approached it like it was any other person, but the thing only tilted mask at him. Without a word it went back to sorting the books. Well, could be worse. At least it wasn't attacking him. Still, it didn't get him very far in this maze of utterly useless texts. He glanced up to see if he could climb the shelves, but no such luck. Each reached the ceiling high above them. No room for him to go over.

"Well, lets see if all magic is useless in this place." He drew the nail from the coffin of St. Padua he hadn't slipped into the other bloke's pocket, smirking to himself.

"Not going to trap me in a maze." the nail was working, or at least it seemed to be, and either way it would give him some direction in moving forward. John Constantine had been in worse. He wasn't worried.

* * *

Zatanna had been dropped from above into the dark. An oubliette? She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark, reached out to find she could touch the smooth walls easily. Her fingers caressed the texture, linoleum wall, stiff and unyielding when she pressed to it. Gradually she found she was in a cube not much larger than she was, but when she managed to turn herself about the found a continuation. More than that, there was a faint, very faint, thin slit of light ahead. It was a good thing she wasn't claustrophobic, that would be a pretty bad trait for a stage magician. She began to crawl towards the crack, feeling her way along the walls as she went to see if there would be any shifting paths or alternative options. There would prove to be none, as she inched towards the sliver of light. And inched. And inched. And inched. It felt like she had been crawling for fifteen minutes solid by the time she was able to reach out and touch the crack of light in front of her. This wall didn't feel as stable as the rest, giving slighting, and she began to fumble around the edges until she found a latch. It was a door, and light poured in as it swung open outwards.

What awaited on the other side was a room filled with brightly colored stuffed animals of all kinds. Piles so high they reached the ceiling, the pink carpet beneath peaking out with sporadic passages which narrowed and grew in width seemingly random. She wasn't sure how big the jungle of stuffies would prove to be, but looking back showed only forward as an option. So forward she crawled until she could stand again, letting her eyes adjust to the shift, stretching her limbs while she had the chance to. Nowhere to go but forward, it looked like. As she began to navigate the room she could hear in the distance a tinkle of music box tune. Not any she recognized, but the sound gave her the impression that, like the light, she was being led somewhere. Was that somewhere dangerous? Only one way to find out.

She grew closer and closer to the source, beginning to slow her pace to a more cautious gait, when something moved out of the corner of her eyes. Something shifted in the pile of stuffed animals next to her, leaving a few to tumble downwards and causing her to quickly step backwards, only to be brushed up against the pile behind her. The soft texture of fur on the back of her neck was no reassuring. Maybe it was just gravity? Or maybe something was hiding in the piles, swimming through them, something that could prove dangerous. She wouldn't put it past this...what ever this place was.

"Are you lost?" the voice of a little girl made her turn on one heel, finding just that sitting at a long table laid out for tea. Several animals sitting on the chairs. The girl at the head of the table looked like a Shirley Temple rip-off. Little blonde curls and a little pink dress.

"You are not the kind of guest I usually have. Would you like some tea anyways?" she was already pouring another cup, and Zatanna almost said yes, before remembering John's warning from earlier. I wouldn't.

"Oh, no thank you. I'm...looking for someone. Have you seen any other kids? Around your age?" Zatanna kept her tone gentle.

"Oh yes! We have lots of other kids here! My name is Lady, who are you? Are you sure you wouldn't like some tea?" Lady slid the cup forward, but Zatanna remained focused.

"That's alright, would you mind showing me where the other kids- Ah!" she gasped, hands flying to her mouth when she made out what looked off behind the girl. There was a body in the stuffed animals. The naked torso of a man, his skin gray and long dead, eyes fogged over and unseeing. She glanced between the child and the man, but as quickly as she had seen him he was gone again.

"What's the matter?" Zatanna was not stupid. She knew better then to trust that this had been anything but a glance into the truth.

"Yortsed ruomalg!" she spoke the words of power, the magic jumping outwards, and the room she was in shifted. The glamour melted away. The stuffed animals sagged and drooped, lost their color. Some were soggy, many were missing parts and had stuffing leaking from them, and in every pile she could see various dead and gray body parts exposed. When she looked back to the table, it was covered in cobwebs, and the "girl" at the head of the table had sharp teeth and numerous sets of eyes.

"Now that's not very nice. Do you want to see where the children are or don't you?" Lady kept calm enough, sipping her tea from a chipped cup. Zatanna was doing her best to both keep an eye on the monster before her, and looking for the door.

"Of course, that's what I'm here for." her voice held a slight quiver despite her best intentions to portray a calm. Something in the piles around her was moving again, always out of the corner of her eyes. She couldn't make out what.

"Well, you're not exactly my type anyways. So I suppose I won't bother." she scooted out her seat to rise from the table, before a wicked smirk lined her face.

"Although...you did come into my room uninvited. Rather rude that." with a snap of her fingers the piles began to fall and topple over, and at last Zatanna could see what had been moving. It was the stuffed animals themselves, which were now clamoring over each other to get a grip on her ankle, and moving fast to try to swarm her.

"Teg kcab!" the shout sent them flying back, earning an upset

"That's not very nice! We only want to play with you!" from Lady.

"Sorry, I have kids to find!" Zatanna was running now, wondering just how big this room was and doing what she could to jump over, duck under, otherwise avoid the pursuit of rotting stuffed animals, as well as the occasional dead limb or body from the pile. The smell of death and rot was beginning to take its toll on her stomach, when she spotted the door at last and changed her course for it.

"Stay with us, have some tea."

"No thanks, I'm good!" a larger stuffed bear managed to grab her by the waist as her hand closed on the handle of the door, she gave it a swift kick in the head and twisted out of the grip, opening the door and slamming it shut behind her.

It all happened so fast she couldn't quite process it in the moment. She glanced back, hazarding a peak back through opening the door a crack to see if they were following her. The room on the other side of the door was now empty. Empty and gray.

"What the-" she still didn't know what was going on, but the lingering smell on her clothing and flashed of the bodies left behind, finally made her double over and lose what little was still in her stomach.

* * *

 **AN:** breaking here to get the next chapter up, because typing up mostly at work between tickets= slow going.


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